


Of Comfort No Man Speak

by draculard



Series: Nightthrawn 15 Day Ficlets [7]
Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Darkfic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mild Sadism/Masochism, Post-Battle of Batonn (Star Wars), minor blood and injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29545665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Thrawn's promotion ceremony, post-Batonn.
Relationships: Nevil Cygni | Nightswan/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nurodo
Series: Nightthrawn 15 Day Ficlets [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158710
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Of Comfort No Man Speak

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 7 Prompt, "Protest."
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr, I'm draculard there too

Neither Commander Faro nor Colonel Yularen commented on Thrawn’s silence. He maintained a taciturn blankness throughout the ceremony; he didn’t smile when his new rank plaque was pinned to his chest, and his expression when he bowed before the Empire was grave.

Afterward, when he and the other eleven Grand Admirals were expected to mingle with the crowds, Thrawn walked past Faro and Yularen and straight out the door. They made no protest, no attempt to follow him. 

He could hear the party through the walls. He tipped his head back, let his eyes fall closed with a sigh. 

_Come to me,_ the Emperor said. 

Palpatine had recused himself shortly after the ceremony, as soon as Thrawn — the last Grand Admiral — had been pinned. Now, Thrawn’s feet lifted of their own accord, taking him deeper into the Imperial Palace. He knew without asking that Palpatine would be in his private chamber, waiting for Thrawn upon his throne.

The guards let him through without question. Alone in the darkened chamber, Thrawn stopped just on the inside of the door and looked Palpatine in the eye. A moment passed between them, silent and unspoken.

Palpatine opened his hands. Understanding. Inviting.

They didn’t speak. There was no sound in the room but Thrawn’s footsteps as he moved forward, the whisper of his uniform as he knelt at Palpatine’s feet and obediently bowed his head. He felt thin fingers brush through his hair, setting his nerves on end in a way he couldn’t classify.

 _You mourn for him,_ Palpatine said.

“I do not mourn the dead,” Thrawn replied. His eyes slid closed again; there was nothing here to analyze, no reason to keep them open. 

_No,_ said Palpatine. _You mourn the lost. Lost assets, lost minds, lost potential._

He ran his fingers through the short hair at Thrawn’s temples, brushing over the shell of his ear. At the crest of Thrawn’s cheekbone, he stopped, the touch of his nails light, capable of either teasing or threatening. 

_You left the party,_ he said. _Tell me why._

Thrawn couldn’t articulate his reasoning. He stayed silent, knowing his silence would be understood, not mistaken for disrespect. His eyes opened just in time to see Palpatine’s other hand snake out and touch his rank plaque, brushing over the white lapels of his new uniform.

 _Because with your victory,_ said Palpatine, _with this rank, they no longer see you as a man. You’ve joined the ranks of the elite now: not flesh and blood, like Nightswan. Not capable of death. They see you as a symbol, and a symbol can never die._

Thrawn said nothing, absorbing the information but reserving judgment until he’d had time to think it through and determine how he felt. His face was blank, his breathing even. Palpatine’s hand shifted, the pressure of his thumbnail on Thrawn’s cheekbone increasing, becoming almost painful but still stimulating enough that rather than flinch, Thrawn leaned into the touch, silently giving Palpatine permission to make it worse. A second later, the pressure coalesced into sharp, real pain as Palpatine’s thumbnail sliced through Thrawn’s skin.

A drop of blood welled up, hot and wet beneath his eye. Palpatine studied it for a moment, ignoring Thrawn’s sharp gaze fixed on his face. Gently, he pressed his thumb against the bead of blood and crushed it, smeared it over Thrawn’s cheekbone until nothing was left but a fresh red stain.

 _I know better than they do,_ Palpatine said, an amused smile crossing his face. He lifted his hand, showed Thrawn the blood on his fingers. _Does that comfort you?_

There was nothing Thrawn could say in response. He lowered his head, rested it on Palpatine’s lap, let his eyes drift shut as the Emperor’s fingers trailed through his hair.

He let himself think of Nightswan again. He couldn’t identify the emotion swelling inside him, making his throat tight and his chest ache. He could only close his eyes and let it wash over him like a wave.


End file.
